Right Stuff
by McRaider
Summary: When Daryl comes across two very young children on a hunt, he can't help but wonder what happened to them, but the horrors they keep secret are far darker than what even he could've imagined.
1. Chapter 1

**Right Stuff**  
**Author**: McRaider  
**Summary**: When Daryl comes across two very young children on a hunt, he can't help but wonder what happened to them, but the horrors they keep secret are far darker than what even he could've imagined.  
**Author's Note:** This is NOT a crossover. I'll say that again, this is not a crossover. It is an AU for Walking Dead, that starts shortly after they leave the farm. Yes the names are likely familiar and yes the characters are based on two other characters from another TV show. But this is entirely a Walking Dead piece that I wrote to deeper delve into Daryl and Carol's psyche (eventually Merle's too I imagine) while taking on an opportunity to delve into another set of psyches that intrigue me.  
**Rated**: PG-13 for Walking Dead and Daryl's language.

**Chapter One**

Dawn was his favorite time of day, before the end of the world; he always woke up early for a hunt in the morning. Sometimes he hadn't even brought game home to eat, sometime he just wandered through the forest, it had guided him through some of the harshest years of his life, and now years later it was guiding him again.

The sting of his failure in finding Sophia alive was still as fresh as ever, even two months later he still hated himself and berated himself daily for his failures. Carol was clinging tighter to him than ever, lost in a sea of desperation to have a reason to continue living. He didn't know anything about women; he certainly wasn't good with 'em. But Carol was different, and he tried to reign in his tendencies towards being a jackass strictly for her benefit.

He crept through the brush, over several roots and a few fallen trees. A winter storm had whipped through the Georgia country leaving fallen trees and an unfamiliar chill in the air. Even Daryl, who was typically comfortable in a sleeveless shirt, had a poncho he'd found in an abandoned house wrapped around him. He was thankful that Rick and Hershel had found the small house they had a few days earlier. It wasn't perfect, and it certainly wasn't permanent, probably wouldn't even make it through another storm, but it was good for a temporary home.

Daryl knelt down near some underbrush and studied the tracks, there wasn't much wildlife to be had these days, between the geeks and the winter, many animals were in hiding or hibernation. Leaving them searching for food, it put Daryl in a tough spot, he tried to gather enough food for everyone, but he was already struggling to make sure what he gathered would feed Lori and her unborn child. He was worried at how underweight she seemed, on top of that Carol had become thin as well, it concerned him deeply to see the women all but wasting away. The rest of the men weren't far behind.

He would kill for a buck or doe right now. His ears perked up when he heard a noise several meters away. His blue eyes scanned the forest floor, searching for what had caused the noise. He didn't see anything, eyebrows scrunching together in confusion he heard the noise again. It sounded…like sniffling. But not that sound an animal makes when they are sniffing for food or unfamiliar scents, rather the sound a human or child makes when trying to keep their cries to themselves.

It wasn't safe to call out, not even this deep in the forest, walkers could be anywhere an' if there were other people around he didn't want them to know about him until he was prepared to defend himself further. Lifting his crossbow up, he lined up the sight and kept looking. He heard something else, coming in the opposite direction, he whirled around and saw some sort of fabric disappearing behind a tree.

"I don't want no trouble," He spoke quickly and quietly, ensuring that only he and the other individual would hear. No reply came to his call, he hadn't expected anything less. All the same he kept his eyes firmly planted on whatever had disappeared. He crept close, watching where he stepped as he came closer to the tree.

At the last minute before he crept around one side he switched and grabbed the individual all but slamming his crossbow and arrow in their face, he stopped short letting out a hiss of expletives at the sight of a mere child. A child who couldn't possibly be much older than Carl's age, the boy was covered from head to toe in dirt, grime, blood and other bodily fluids that Daryl wasn't willing to identify for fear he might spew.

"What the hell?" he backed off, releasing the child's shirt. To Daryl's surprise, the boy didn't seem all that shaken by his attacker, in fact if anything he seemed prepared and deeply determined to defend whatever it was he was…well defending. In his right hand he held a small switch blade, not large, but clearly it had seen its fair share of battle based on the blood stains.

"Who are you?" The boy demanded his voice was young, hadn't started to crack from puberty, putting the child under eleven or twelve easily. He was gangly, not quite fitting into his lanky form, and was too skinny for his age. But then, Daryl assumed just about everyone was skinny these days.

"Could ask you the same question. Where'd ya come from?" He questioned, not bothering to answer the boy's original question.

"West," the boy's response was vague and protective for a child, proving he was smarter than he looked, and he was protecting something important if he was capable of being so vague at his age.

"You got parents? Kids your age shouldn't be out here 'lone anymore."

The boy bristled, clearly angered, "I can take care of myself just fine," he stated. His accent, while still southern was less so than that of Daryl's group. Meaning the boy wasn't from Georgia, and it didn't have enough twang to be Alabama which put the kid west of Mississippi for sure, and possibly a little North.

"A'right, you can take care of yerself, ain't questionin' ya. Ya got a group?"

To Daryl's surprise the boy shook his head, "Nobody, I'm on my own."

That was a damn lie if Daryl had ever heard one, maybe the kid wasn't lying about his parents, but he wasn't telling the truth about it just being him. "Right, and yer safe, where yer stayin'?" He questioned again, all the while he couldn't help but wonder what was making him care so damn much. Maybe it was this group, they were makin' him soft. Or maybe Daryl couldn't stand to see another lost child, but whatever it was Daryl certainly wasn't going to start changing his mind now. This child didn't belong out here alone, especially if he wasn't alone, and if the boy wasn't alone-which was likely based on how protective he was acting, then that meant there was another child one potentially younger than this one. That gave Daryl more than enough reason to be concerned, at this child's age he'd had no trouble caring for himself, but caring for someone else—during an apocalypse, seemed beyond what any normal child could handle.

"What's yer name?" Daryl asked.

"Why do you care? Just leave me be, an' I won't bother you," the child replied.

Daryl considered the boy for another moment, at least at this point he hadn't run in the other direction or stabbed him yet, so Daryl had to be doing something right, "Look, ya ain't an adult, no matter what ya can do, I might be able to help ya."

The child's eye's narrowed, "Help how?"

"I can teach ya how to hunt, proper like. That puny knife won't do shit fer ya," Daryl knew they were sitting targets in the woods, gabbing like this. However, he couldn't shake the nagging voice in his head, the one that rather recently had started to perpetually start to sound like Carol, it kept telling him to help this boy.

"I don't need help, been doin' fine on my own for six months," he argued.

Daryl wasn't fond of the brat so far, but Daryl knew by the defiant stare that was filled with distrust for adults, that this child had suffered years at the hands of abuse. The anger he was radiating wasn't because of Daryl, it was distrust, years of abuse had taught this child all too well to trust no one. Daryl knew without a doubt if he really wanted to help the boy, he had to give him a reason to trust and believe him. That, however, was the part that Daryl remained unsure of.

He looked the boy over again, assessing that in these chilling days the boy had to be freezing, no matter where he was staying. Places didn't have heat anymore. Then Daryl caught it, the slightest hint of a shiver in the child, the goose bumps on his neck where his shirt didn't cover. "I got a camp, 'bout six miles North of here, we got a kid 'bout your age. I can get you something warmer to wear, so that you ain't freezin'."

That seemed to tweak the child's interest as his anger rapidly changed to concern. And that's when Daryl realized there was a lot more at stake for this child than his own life. He kept his mouth shut, letting the child consider this. "You got blankets?" The boy asked.

"Yeah, some…not just you is it?" The look of anger, and fierce protectiveness filled the boy's hazel green eyes. "Little youngin', sibling I'm guessing."

"Brother, he's four."

Daryl felt his stomach drop, no child deserved to be out here alone. He'd been worried and frightened for Sophia when she'd gone missing, despite his firmness in finding her. "I can't leave ya out here, kid. You could get him killed."

"I would never put him in harms way!" The child snapped rather loudly.

Daryl snarled as he slammed the kid into the tree, instantly regretting it as he saw and heard the grunt of pain across his face. Then he heard it, the moaning. "Walkers, kid, you gotta be quiet, we need to go."

"What?" He hissed, his voice softer this time, "I ain't leaving Sammy!"

Daryl had at least figured out the younger brother's name. "Fine, where is he?" He looked around seeing the walkers already starting to move through the woods, more than he'd anticipated, but not too many that he couldn't get these two kids out of here if necessary. He counted six so far, from south, stumbling around the trees.

To Daryl's surprise the boy grabbed his hand and pulled at him, they headed about five ten yards east before the child stopped at a large tree with branches out in every direction. Daryl looked at it confusion, but then he noticed notches in the trunk, just large enough for a child's shoes and hands, he followed it up and was stunned to find a tree house. His brows furrowed as he searched around for the nearest house.

"Ya won't find it, burnt down; it's about a mile further east. I found this place, we've been hiding here for weeks," The boy began to scale the tree, Daryl glanced around, he wouldn't fit up there, and he was guessing if they'd been hiding up here all along, then it was likely Daryl wasn't welcome up there. This would be their inner sanctuary. Daryl'd had a place like that as well at this boy's age, though it was just a tree, he didn't have no good dad to build him a tree house.

The walkers were coming, Daryl only had three arrows he had to wait for them to come closer, thankfully they weren't the quickest of creatures. He heard shuffling above him, and a moment later the door to the bottom of tree house opened, a small form came out first, unlike the sure steps quick and easy of the older boy, these ones were shaky in finding the holes. Daryl resisted the urge of reaching out and grabbing the child, knowing if this one had been abused as well, he wouldn't take to a stranger grabbing him.

"We need to go," Daryl called up, his voice a whisper despite the obvious order behind it. Hazel green eyes, identical to the older boy's looked down at him nervously, fever raging within them. "He been bit?"

"No," The older boy answered firmly, "He's got the flu, I've been tryin' to find him medicine for nearly two weeks."

"He can't run if he's sick."

The older boy, now half way down, pushed off and landed hard on the ground, but he rolled in a way that would indicate almost solider. "Sammy, you need to let this man carry you."

The child whimpered and shook his head; he was now stuck on the tree. Daryl glanced up to see the walkers growing closer, without a second thought, Daryl plucked the child from the tree and deposited him into the older child's arms, "Run, fast as ya can. Go back west the way we came, where we ran into each other, then yer gonna see tracks, you know how to track, boy?"

"Yes."

Daryl nodded, "Good, follow my tracks quick as ya can six miles North of where we met, there's a woman, Carol. She'll help ya. I'll be followin', but I need to get these geeks off our trail, got it?"

"Got it," with barely another look back, the child turned and ran in the direction they'd come, thankfully away from the geeks rapidly heading in their direction. Daryl looked up and around, he noticed several of the trees were close, he wondered if he could jump from one to another. He quickly nixed that idea when he noticed the highest ones were far too skinny. He couldn't run in the same direction. "Hey!" he shouted towards the geeks, seeing a couple heading in the same direction as the boys, he took quick aim and shot the closest two. The rest turned and headed towards him.

He desperately hoped this didn't turn into another Sophia situation, and even more that this wouldn't be the end of him. He turned on his heel and ran further into the forest, away from the boys and his camp.

TBC


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: Reviews are gold. Here's a new chapter, this will probably not be the quickest posts but that's okay.**

Chapter Two

Carol was remarkably grateful they'd found a small house that somehow had a laundry tub in a storage closet, they carried their own, but two would allow the other girls to help wash as well, instead of just one at a time. She sighed as she grabbed Daryl's clothes in the basket and rolled her eyes. She wondered if that man had ever been clean a day in his life. Even after Andrea had shot him with the arrow he hadn't cleaned up, and he'd had the choice for a shower in that situation.

The poor man was somewhat clueless when it came to cleanliness. She chuckled, considering the redneck for a minute, what had started as admiration for keeping hope in Sophia being found was rapidly changing into something more. She'd hoped he would find Sophia, but when they finally found her she was little more than a walker. All the same, Carol would never forget all that Daryl had done to help her get through it, even if he hadn't done any of it intentionally, his hope and his determination was what kept her going. His own desire to berate his failures is what kept her going now. She wouldn't let him shut down, he hadn't let her do it before they found Sophia dead, and she wasn't going to let him after.

"Carol!" Beth's voice came from outside, Carol, brows furrowed, dropped Daryl's dirt sodden shirt and headed outside where she saw Rick and T-Dog poised, their guns pulled and ready to fire as two figures entered the clearing.

Her eyes widened in surprise as the larger of the two figures stumbled under the combined weight of himself and the second figure. "They look hurt," Beth shouted as she raced towards the figures, Maggie reached out, snatching the girl's arm in time to keep her from going closer.

"We don't know anythin' they could be walkers," Maggie cautioned her younger sister.

As the larger figure grew closer, Rick began to lower his gun as he heard the child asking for one name, "Carol," the child groaned, before he and the smaller child collapsed into a boneless heap.

All eyes were on the short haired woman as she hurried towards the two boys, "Hershel," she needn't call for the former vet, he was already at her side as they did a brief but quick inventory of any possibly injuries, "They ain't bit!" Carol called out, watching the tension leave everyone's shoulders.

"No, but this little one certainly is a sick fella, Carol, can you carry him inside, Rick, come get this older boy."

Within moments they were off the small side street and inside, they laid the two boys in Daryl's room for the time being, as he was out on a hunt. Carol went to get some hot water, and cloths, while Hershel rolled his sleeves, "Beth can you bring me my medical kit."

Hershel began to gently run his hands over the limbs, making sure neither boy had any broken bones. Hair color and facial features alone made it clear these two were brothers. The younger of the two was running a high fever, and was grossly malnourished, among other things, Hershel was fairly certain he was also contending with pneumonia, he could feel the rattle under his hands as he ran them over the child's left ribcage.

"Here daddy," Beth handed her father his kit, and took a seat in the corner to watch. Carol stepped back into the room and got to work cleaning the boys, she was surprised when the older boy began to stir after several minutes, aside from being far too skinny, he appeared unharmed.

His eyes opened slightly, "Carol," It was the same thing he'd moaned when he'd come into their small area, he slipped into unconsciousness again, leaving Carol speechless. Hershel looked at her, giving her a short smile, as if trying to calm her.

"Poor boy looks like he's run a marathon, add to that he probably carried this little fella, I'm willin' to bet he's exhausted. Let me finish examining this little boy, give him some antibiotics and then we'll let them rest."

"What's wrong with him, daddy?" Beth questioned from her spot in the corner.

Hershel placed the stethoscope to the child's left lung and was unsurprised to hear the rattle of fluid in it, he listened to the other and found a slight rattle there, not as harsh. "He's got fluid buildup in his poor lungs. Poor things been drowning slowly, I'd like to drain the fluid, but we'd have to administer a sedative first."

"What's the problem?" Carol questioned.

"It can be slightly invasive, I have to make sure he remains completely still, the area needs to be sterile, and I'd need a tube. None of these options are ideal at this time. I'm going to treat him with antibiotics first, see if we can't get rid of the mucus build up that way. We'll see how he's doing in a few days and if there is still a build up, we'll have to discuss the draining."

Carol nodded, understanding Hershel's hesitancy. Once his exam was complete of both boys, and Carol had cleaned them up the best she could, they covered the brothers with the heaviest blankets they had and stepped out of the room. The others were gathered in the living room waiting. Rick just stood, not needing to vocalize the question they all had on their minds.

"They are resting for now, the younger boy is suffering from pneumonia, he hasn't been bit. The older one is fine aside from a case of malnourishment."

"It was like they knew where to find us, how did they know your name, Carol?" Glenn questioned.

"Daryl ran into them maybe."

"But where is Daryl?" Lori questioned.

They all looked at one another, concern etched in all their faces, "There ain't no use in worryin' yet," Carol reasoned, "He's only been gone a few hours which is normal for him. Give them boys a chance to rest then we can ask what happened. Daryl can take care of himself," There was more reassurance in voice than what she actually felt. "I'm gonna go sit with the boys," Carol turned and headed back up the stairs, leaving in her wake a family what was more than a little concerned.

"You think they're all alone?" T-Dog asked Hershel.

Hershel inclined his head slightly, "Based on their health and appearance, I'm inclined to say yes, but I can't know for certain until they wake. I don't think Daryl would send anyone into our camp without knowing they're safe first. If Daryl did send these boys to us, it was for safe keepin. We won't be treating them the way we treated that other boy."

"That was different," Lori stated, "That other boy was almost a man, these two are children."

"Glad we're all in agreement then. Glenn, Maggie, there was a medical clinic not far up the road when we came into town, there are some supplies I could use to treat the little boy's pneumonia, and a few items we might need if it gets too bad, would you be willing to go and pick them up?"

"Sure," Glenn answered, glad to have a task, even happier to have the time alone with Maggie.

"They can borrow some of my clothes," Carl offered.

"Something warm would be best, son," Rick instructed as Karl hurried off.

Carol stepped back into the room and sat down in a chair by the bed, she smiled when she noticed a feverish set of hazel green eyes watching her, "Hi," she whispered as she studied the child. The little boy scooted closer to his brother, who despite being unconscious seemed to sense his brother's distress and wrapped an arm around him."Its okay, I won't hurt you," she promised, showing him both her hands. "I'm Carol."

"Caro'" he repeated, not quite able to finish the name. He seemed confused as to where he was, she didn't bother asking him how they'd gotten here, not wanting to traumatize or confuse him further. She figured any answers they get would come from the older boy.

"That's right, what's your name?"

"Sam," he answered quietly.

She smiled warmly at him, "Sam is an excellent name, how old are you Samuel?"

"Sam," he repeated as he pulled his hand out from under the blanket and held up four of his fingers.

"Four, you must be a big boy, I bet you help your big brother out a lot don't you?"

The child smiled proudly and nodded, whatever their relationship, Carol could tell the boys were close and depended on one another. She acted as if she was straightening the blanket after he'd moved, before she smoothed her hand up and down his shoulder. "Sam, do you have a mom or dad we need to find?"

The child's eyes grew watery and shook his head no slowly, before he started to cough. The coughing grew harsh and wet, loud enough to disturb his older brother. Carol watched for a moment as the older boy tuned into his brother's every need, rubbing his back and whispering. The coughing however soon grew harsher before the child began to vomit, luckily Carol saw that coming and had grabbed a nearby trashcan and put it in front of the boy. She'd seen Sophia's coughing turn into vomiting more than a few times when she'd been Sam's age. Without even thinking, she began to run a comforting hand through the child's hair. She was pleasantly surprised when both boys allowed this comforting motion.

Tears fell from Sam's cheeks as he drew in a shaky breath, he collapsed back into his brother's arms. Carol reached over to the nearby table and handed the wash cloth from earlier to the older boy.

"Thanks," was the first thing she'd really heard him say. She simply nodded, watching as he took care of his brother, wiping his face and brow. "He's really warm," the child's voice was concerned.

"We have a doctor," she figured the boy didn't to know what kind of doctor. "He'll be taken care of, I promise."

"You Carol?"

She gave him a small smile and nodded, "That's me, want to tell me your name?"

"Dean."

"Nice to meet you, Dean. Your brother says you two were on your own, is that true?"

Dean looked down at Sam who had now slipped back into an uneasy sleep, every few breaths echoed by a wheeze from deep within his lungs. Carol, sensing she wasn't going to get an answer to that question beyond what she already knew, decided to ask another question. "How'd you know my name?"

"I was looking for food earlier in the woods, ran into some redneck with a crossbow."

"Daryl."

"Yeah, anyway we were getting overrun by Walkers, and he told us where to find you, then he went running in the other direction." Carol kept her fears to herself, and instead considered the child's story. That sounded like Daryl all right, he protected others, especially young.

"You're safe now, why don't you try and rest," she offered quietly.

Dean gave her a look of uneasiness as he settled back against the pillows, still cuddling his younger brother. Only seconds after closing his eyes, he was completely out. She looked at the two boys, wondering why and what made Daryl so interested in these two boys, or was it just the fact that they were two orphaned boys on their own needing help. A year ago, she doubted Daryl would've bothered with these two, but now, the team had helped humanize the man that was already buried deep. She believed Daryl to be a good man, a man of honor is what she'd said. But Merle had made him believe for a long time he deserved to be hated. Sighing she stood and went to the window, staring out at the horizon as if expecting to see him in the distance.

She wasn't quite ready to put a label to her feelings towards Daryl Dixon, but with each layer pulled from the onion like persona, she realized those feelings only grew deeper and stronger. "Come home, Daryl."


End file.
